


Out To Get You

by mysticanni



Series: The Real Life [4]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Polyamory, References to Illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 12:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21270884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticanni/pseuds/mysticanni
Summary: Emotions run high while recording ‘Killer Queen’.





	Out To Get You

**Author's Note:**

> I think this can be read without reading the other parts first.
> 
> In my head they are not all that far into their relationship at this point, but the Real Life timing of the Cornwall Tour and the recording of ‘Killer Queen’ would mean that they would have been together for years so I am just merrily ignoring that and carrying on regardless as this is fiction, after all. 
> 
> Also, as will be completely obvious, I know nothing about recording studios. I do know there would have been other people there but I wanted it to be just the four of them so in my fictional world it is.

It was one of the rare occasions when Roger was sitting on the sofa. Normally, someone scooped Roger onto their lap for a cuddle. (Roger never resisted a cuddle.) Now, sitting alone on the battered old sofa in the studio, he looked smaller than usual. He looked wrong, somehow, out of place. John longed to gather him onto his lap and hug him, although he did occasionally think that perhaps they were too prone to treat Roger as if he were a child. He hurried over to Roger despite this train of thought.

  
Roger looked up as he approached, raking one hand through his messy blond locks. His face lit up and John felt his heart twist: he had produced that look from this beautiful man.

  
Roger had come in early to tune his drums and set everything up as he liked it. The others had stayed in bed a bit longer.  
‘We ready to go?’ Roger stood and brushed his lips against John’s.

  
John nodded. He must have looked anxious, as Roger asked, ‘Is Bri okay, d’y’think?’

  
It was Brian’s first proper day back in the studio after being in and out of hospital with hepatitis, gangrene and a bleeding stomach ulcer. The previous week he had lain, barely able to move, on the sofa Roger had just vacated, listening to the others recording one of Freddie’s songs, ‘Killer Queen’. They had left room for the guitar and were planning to record that next.

  
Brian was still too thin, too pale, too fragile. He had insisted on coming back now, however, despite their reservations. John knew that Roger was just as worried as he was himself.

  
*

  
If Brian was being totally honest with himself he would admit that he was jealous. Without him the others had created an amazing album. With zero input from him, ‘Killer Queen’ had come to life. An instant classic, Brian thought. It was going to be a hit, he just knew it, and he could take none of the credit.

  
If he was being completely honest with himself then he would admit he felt jealous and frustrated and expendable and left out. Brian was not being completely honest with himself, though. He was unable to deal with how uncomfortable and vulnerable it made him, so, instead, he told himself the song was missing something.

  
But that was okay. That was okay, because he could fix it for them. Brian May, super hero, to the rescue. His lips twitched into a smile. He heard the door open and turned to see John and Roger enter.

  
Roger’s hair was loose and fell in fluffy waves around his face. He was wearing a mostly unbuttoned gauzy flowery blouse. He looked lovely, soft and sweet.

  
Roger’s face lit up. ‘Hello Brimi!’

Freddie followed them in and shut the door. He smiled. ‘Isn’t it lovely to have us all together again, darlings!’

  
Brian ignored the uneasy lurch of his stomach. He had to do this. He had to save their song. He could not look at Roger.  
‘The backing vocals are shit. We’ll have to completely re-do them.’

  
*

  
Roger’s face crumpled. It hurt to watch. John put his arm around Roger’s shoulders. ‘They sounded fine to me, Brian,’ he said coldly.

  
‘What do you know, John, you can’t sing,’ Brian sneered.

  
‘That is unfair, Brian,’ Freddie said calmly. ‘John knows what he is talking about.’

  
Brian shrugged.

  
‘What did I do wrong?’ Roger asked softly.

  
‘Too harsh. Too screechy. ‘ Brian explained.

  
Roger nodded. ‘Well,’ his face brightened, ‘we can re-do them and now that you are here we can do the harmonies with you and it’ll be brilliant!’ He beamed at them.

  
‘That’s the spirit, dear,’ Freddie murmured.

  
John stared at Brian and felt a satisfaction tinged with guilt when Brian looked away first. He loved Brian, he really did, but sometimes Brian made it very difficult for him to like him. Too harsh, indeed.

  
*

  
They had been singing the backing vocals over and over again for hours and Brian was still not satisfied.

  
‘Was that okay?’ Roger wondered, hopefully.

  
John, looking on from the control booth, silently willed Brian to say yes. Roger looked utterly miserable and Freddie looked fed-up too.

  
‘Again,’ Brian ordered.

  
Roger’s face fell further. ‘I need a break, Bri.’

  
‘No.’

  
*

  
Roger thought if he tried to sing again he would wet himself on the first high note. ‘Please, Bri, I really need to pee.’

  
Brian sighed and gave Roger a disapproving look. ‘Fine, then. Go. Be quick. No one else move.’

  
Roger was already almost at the door, scared that Brian would change his mind, when he heard Brian sharply telling Freddie to come back. He heard Freddie’s boots in the corridor behind him.

  
‘Rog, wait!’

  
‘I can’t, Freddie!’

  
*

  
Roger’s voice sounded strained. Freddie hurried after him. ‘We need to talk about this, darling!’

  
‘Talk about what?’ Roger hauled open the door to the lavatories.

  
Freddie followed him. He considered the likelihood of Brian allowing any further breaks and decided he should relieve himself too.

  
After, when they were washing their hands, Freddie studied Roger in the mirror. Roger was looking fixedly at his hands.

  
‘We need to talk about why you have not told Brian to fuck off, Rog,’ Freddie stated.

  
Roger froze, as completely as if Freddie had pressed his ‘pause’ button. Even his hands were still under the running water from the tap.

  
Freddie longed to hug him, to tell him it would be okay, to reassure him that they didn’t have to talk about it after all. He forced himself to remain quiet and wait.

  
Roger resumed rinsing his hands. His eyes met Freddie’s in the mirror. ‘We ought to get back.’

  
‘Rog...’

‘Later, Freddie, please,’ Roger said wearily.

  
‘Okay, dear, but I will hold you to that.’

  
*

  
John surveyed Brian, who had sat down cross-legged on the floor and was moodily picking at his already chipped nail polish. John sighed. He was fairly certain that if Brian had just asked; had simply said that he really wanted to be involved with the vocals for the song, that Roger and Freddie would have been delighted. He was reasonably certain that Brian could have achieved what he wanted without diminishing Roger’s efforts. Unless, of course, there had been something wrong with Roger’s earlier efforts; the vocals that Freddie, a notorious perfectionist himself and the composer of the song, had been satisfied with. But what did John know? He couldn’t sing.

  
*  
Brian pointedly looked at his watch as Roger and Freddie returned. He scrambled up off the floor.

  
‘Thanks, Brimi,’ Roger said. He looked over at John and waved. ‘Sorry I’m taking it so long to get this right, Deaks.’

‘There are three of us singing, dear,’ Freddie put his arm around Roger’s shoulders, ‘It isn’t all about you, darling!’ His tone was light but his eyes were boring into Brian.

  
*

  
Brian shifted uncomfortably under Freddie’s gaze. He was prepared to concede that he could, perhaps, have gone about this differently. Roger pleading for permission to leave the room was...new. He risked a glance at Roger and found Roger staring back at him, which added to his unease.

  
Roger moved closer to him and planted a kiss on Brian’s cheek. ‘I s’pose we’d better get on with it, then,’ Roger said.

  
Brian reminded himself that he was improving the song.

  
*

  
Sleek dark hair; curly dark hair; tousled blond, through the glass of the control room window, John observed how close together their heads were. It looked intimate. He felt a pang of loneliness. He wished, certainly not for the first time, that he could sing too. That he could share that magic with them. He thought that perhaps he could understand why Brian had wanted it so badly. He could understand feeling excluded.

  
*

  
It was late, or perhaps early, when Brian decided he was satisfied. Everyone was exhausted. ‘We need to talk about this,’ Freddie warned them. ‘About you, Brimi, dear and you, Roger, darling, but it can wait until after we have had some sleep.’  
John frowned. A chat about The Problem With Brian was very much in order, he felt, but he felt slightly panicked at the notion that he had missed The Problem With Roger.

  
Roger seemed tired and withdrawn and upset, certainly, but that was down to Brian’s high-handedness (bullying, his mind supplied). Yet Freddie seemed to be suggesting that there was more to it. That John had missed something troubling in Roger’s behaviour. John was not accustomed to missing things. He prided himself on noticing everything about them. Brian was the oblivious one, not him.

  
*

  
They did not talk about it, however. The next few days were a whirlwind of band related activity. There was no time to talk about the ‘Killer Queen’ session.

  
On the surface, everything seemed normal in both their professional and personal relationships. Everyone was a little tired, perhaps; a little subdued, maybe, but that was to be expected, wasn’t it? It had been a hectic time, made stressful by Brian’s illness.

  
Brian thought that he had successfully evaded the threatened Talk. Not that he had done anything wrong. He had been improving the song. If he had trampled on Roger’s feelings a bit to do so, well, Roger seemed okay and the song was now excellent and it was a price worth paying.

  
Unbeknownst to Brian, Roger was also relieved to have escaped The Talk.

  
They should have known better, of course. Freddie did not give up easily.

  
He struck on a Friday night. They were all tired and ready for a night in. Freddie opened a bottle of wine and lit some candles. They lounged on cushions on the floor.

  
‘Scrabble?’ Brian suggested.

  
‘Actually, darling, I thought we could have a little chat,’ Freddie said silkily, ‘I’m keen to know why you were such an absolute cunt when we were finishing ‘Killer Queen’.’

  
Brian laughed uneasily. ‘Was I?’

  
‘Yes,’ John confirmed, ‘you were, especially to Rog.’

Brian shifted uncomfortably on his cushion. ‘I was...The backing vocals needed work...’

  
John snorted. ‘You know, Brian, if you needed to be included in the vocals that badly, you could’ve just asked.’

  
It was Roger who broke the subsequent uncomfortable silence. ‘He did,’ he said softly, ‘that was him asking.’

  
Brian thought he might vomit. ‘No,’ he protested, ‘your vocals were no use.’

  
‘They were fine,’ John barked.

  
‘Actually, I do think it sounds better now,’ Freddie conceded, ‘but that is not the point. It is the way you went about it that I have an issue with, Brian. That, and the fact that Roger just lay down and allowed you to walk all over him.’

  
Ah. That was what he had been missing, John realised. Roger had, indeed, been uncharacteristically subdued. He mentally kicked himself for not realising sooner. Now, Roger was looking at Brian with an almost unbearably sad expression on his face.

  
‘I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings, Rog,’ Brian muttered.

  
Roger crawled over to Brian and wrapped his arms around him. ‘’S okay. You were giving your opinion. It’s allowed.’

  
‘Making someone feel shit is never allowed,’ John snapped. He did not add, particularly if it is Roger, but he thought it.

  
‘Perhaps I could have phrased it differently,’ Brian muttered.

  
Roger peppered Brian’s face with little kisses. ‘Perhaps,’ he agreed, ‘but I love you anyway.’

  
It was his kindness that broke Brian, who began to sob. ‘I was so scared! I’d been so useless. I was scared you were going to get rid of me. And you were creating these amazing songs without me and I just wanted to belong again!’ he howled.

  
Once Roger had soothed Brian a little, John said, ‘That is all very well, Brian, but you can’t make yourself feel better by forcing someone else down onto their knees.’

  
‘He knows that, Deaks,’ Roger murmured.

  
‘Does he?’ John still sounded unimpressed.

  
‘I am sorry,’ Brian gulped.

  
‘It’s okay,’ Roger crooned.

  
‘Yes,’ Freddie said thoughtfully, studying Roger, ‘which brings me to my other point: as I said to you before, Roggie, darling, why didn’t you tell Brian to fuck off?’

  
John nodded his agreement of this line of questioning.

  
Roger sighed. ‘Why didn’t you?’

  
Freddie shook his head. ‘Oh, no, blondie, you don’t get out of it that easily! It wasn’t my backing vocals he was insulting.’

  
Roger sighed. ‘We almost lost him,’ he said softly. ‘We’d been fighting and I was scared I wouldn’t get the chance to put things right, y’know?’ He sighed again. ‘This is going to sound stupid...’

  
‘We’re used to that from you,’ Brian said and John silently cursed him.

  
Roger ignored him. ‘I don’t really believe in God, but when we were in that hospital waiting room I...I promised that if Brian survived and if he could still play that I’d be better. I’d behave better...’

  
Brian enveloped Roger in a hug.

  
‘Oh, darling,’ Freddie reached over and ruffled Roger’s hair. ‘You being yourself isn’t bad behaviour. And you can’t just let yourself be ordered about for the rest of your life!’

  
‘Works for me,’ Brian murmured, earning himself a glare from John.

  
‘What do you think will happen if you are not all....’ John waved his hand about, searching for the right word, and eventually settled on, ‘...meek?’

  
‘Something bad,’ Roger mumbled. ‘Look, I know it’s silly...’

  
‘It’s not silly,’ Freddie disagreed. ‘I’d certainly have sold my soul to the devil that day, if the opportunity had arisen.’

  
‘If you can’t go back to being yourself, though,’ John added, ‘then...well, we can’t just allow you to be taken advantage of...’

  
Brian’s head shot up. ‘I wasn’t taking advantage of him!’ he exclaimed, ‘I had no idea he had been thinking a lot of superstitious nonsense!’

  
John winced.

  
Roger laughed. ‘Thanks a bunch, Bri!’

Brian waved his hand dismissively. ‘You know what I mean,’ he grumbled. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he added gently.

  
Roger sighed. ‘I know it is not rational...’ He snuggled against Brian. ‘I know that, and I expect one day I’ll just start to argue back, as usual, and...’

  
Brian felt him shudder and pulled him as close as he could. He stroked Roger’s hair. He supposed he might have unwittingly taken advantage of Roger, maybe, just a little bit.

  
‘We all know now,’ Freddie pointed out cheerfully, ‘so we can keep an eye out.’ He scooted closer to Brian and Roger. He caught Brian’s hands in his. ‘You know, Brimi, what we said to Rog, that night on the beach, it applies to you, too; to all of us. You are one of us. You can’t leave.’

  
‘Not even if you want to,’ John added softly and was glad when Brian smiled. He moved closer too.

  
‘Are we gonna have a group hug?’ Roger beamed and stretched his arms towards John. ‘We’re like the four musketeers: all for one and one for all.’

  
‘Three musketeers,’ Brian corrected him, ‘but I suppose if you take D’Artagnan into account the analogy works,’ he conceded.

  
Freddie looked thoughtful. ‘Those fashions might work well as stage costumes,’ he murmured and looked outraged when John threw a cushion at his head.

  
‘I am not wearing a flouncy hat, Freddie!’

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it this far then thank you so much for reading!


End file.
